


9-1-1

by LexoA2011



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Anna helping Gabriel be an ass, Domestic, Gabriel being an Ass, M/M, Oral Sex, Paramedic!Dean, Trainee!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexoA2011/pseuds/LexoA2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh Meat Monday rolls around, bringing new trainees with it.  Dean, the most charismatic EMT in the area, gets Castiel as his trainee. Castiel is easily the most knowledgeable of the bunch, and certainly the most socially inept, providing Dean with a healthy challenge.  What Dean wasn't expecting, though, was to be challenged himself and in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9-1-1

It is dark and cold and damp when Castiel steps out of the Roadhouse.  His tan trenchcoat is buttoned and belted against the wind as he walked the few blocks to where he parked.  The wind blows back his dark mess of hair and pauses his breath with its intensity.  His ears prick; someone is…whimpering? Hands shoved deep into his pockets to fight the chill, he continues forward, glancing around for the source of the noise.  A shriek, now, and Castiel is rushing to find the source. An alley, dark and dank, holds a man that Castiel would not have seen if not for the white of his skin that peeked when his sweatshirt rucked up in the struggle. The dark-haired man surges forward and grabs the offender by the belt and the back of his sweatshirt and throws him violently into the wall. A woman is lying on the ground, crying, panties wrenched around her ankles. Castiel wants to ask her if she is well, wants to call an ambulance, wants to finish his rescue and see this man in handcuffs, but the man pulls out a switchblade and swipes at Castiel.  With surprising speed, Castiel grips the wrist and slams it against the wall, forcing the knife out of his hand.  The man’s other hand comes up in a fist and decks the rescuer in the face, causing him to hit the jagged brick wall. His forehead, near his hairline, is cut and bleeding, down over his eyebrow, trailing down his cheeks. The gash is long and deep.  Castiel is not amused. He grabs the smooth column of the perpetrator’s throat and slams him into the wall, just hard enough to daze, then throws him onto the stinking concrete and pins him with a bony knee to the back.

Panting, Castiel looks at the girl, who has gathered most of her bearings. He swallows, clears his throat. “Are you injured?” He inquires, his gravelly voice raspy with the effort it had taken to incapacitate the man. Blood is trickling into his eye, and he squeezes it shut. The woman nods, still shocked.  “Was he able to get you?” She shakes her head. The man struggles, and Castiel forces his arms behind his back. He places his knee on the man’s hands, putting more weight on him.  He flips open his old phone and calls emergency services, concisely delivering the approximate address and requesting medical care.  Castiel informs the woman that EMS is on their way, but is unable to provide much more comfort, despite starting the last leg of his EMT training Monday.  He is at the top of his class for everything but people skills.

The ambulance arrives, as do the police.  Castiel gets off of the man, and he is taken into custody.  The paramedics get out of the ambulance and approach them. Castiel declines aid until the woman is taken care of.   Two assist her, and one approaches him.  “Hey man. Looks like a nasty gash there.”  The man who approaches him is smiling, Castiel knows, but the light is behind him; he can’t see his face clearly.

Castiel can feel the blood running down his face and caking on the edges. “I will be okay. Do you have something with which I can clean my face?”  He gets a chuckle from the paramedic, who gestures for him to follow.  Now that he can see the man’s face, he notices the brown hair, the long eyelashes and the freckles.  The man’s grin morphs into a purse as he whistles “Smoke on the Water” and rifles through his bag for some gauze.

“So what happened, man?” The paramedic asks, still grinning, and pours water on the gauze.  “Hold still,” he holds Castiel’s jaw and gently wipes away the blood. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

Castiel clears his throat. “I am Castiel.  The woman was in trouble. I pulled the perpetrator off of her and proceeded to…incapacitate him.” Water trickles down his face and neck from the gauze. “He punched me and I hit a jagged edge of brick.”

Dean nodded and tilted Castiel’s head to look at the gash. “Yikes. That is pretty nasty, Cas.” Cas? “Time to play good-news-bad-news. Which do you want first?” A penlight was pulled from his pocket, and Castiel held still as Dean checked his pupil response and slipped the penlight back.

Castiel considers for a moment. “I believe bad news would be more appropriate.”

Dean grins and reaches for the antiseptic. “Bad news; you need stitches.” He dribbles antiseptic on fresh gauze. “Good news; I can do it right here.  Miss thing doesn’t want to go to the hospital and checked out fine.”  Dean looks at Castiel’s expression as he dabs at the gash with the antiseptic.  Castiel barely flinches, and even then that “flinch” may have been more of a blink or shying away from the bright light of the ambulance.  

“Can we not butterfly bandage it? How are you qualified to give me sutures?”

Dean sucks his teeth with a long hiss. “Ooh. Sorry, Cas, no can do.” Dean rifles through his bag and retrieves the supplies necessary. “I went to pre-med on a scholarship, but something came up. Became a paramedic instead. Allergic to anything?”

“No, Dean.”

“Good, good…” Dean pulled a few ccs of local anesthetic from a glass vial. “A few pricks,” gently, Dean slips the needle in the skin surrounding the gash, jabbing him in strategic locations around the wound. After a few moments, he runs a thumb gently over the skin and asks if Castiel feels anything. When the man doesn’t, he begins to stitch up the four inch slit.  Castiel sits quietly, patiently waiting for Dean to finish. The freckled man sings _Cherry Pie_ under his breath softly as he sews Castiel’s skin back together.

Castiel enjoys some classic rock. “I know that song.”

Dean grins, tying the stitch. “Good. I’d be worried if you didn’t.”  Dean snips the surgical thread and stands up straight. “There you go! All done up.” Dean slaps the gauze on almost as an afterthought.  The smile Castiel receives is…charming, and it makes his heart pound a little harder for a moment. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel offers a small, awkward smile of his own.  Dean claps him on the shoulder.

“No problem, man. You don’t have a concussion, and that gash should heal fine. With some luck and some cocoa butter, you won’t even have a scar.” Castiel nods and rubs a hand across his stubbled chin.

“You require information,” Castiel knows this from his classes, but Dean surprises him by shaking his head.

“Nah. You’re good. Five bucks worth of equipment. No big. Just go home, get some rest. No NSAIDs or alcohol for at least twelve hours. Don’t wanna start bleeding again just because you thinned your blood. Also, you’re gonna wanna get those taken out in… two weeks. Just to make sure. I can’t carry the disposable shit with me.”  Dean grins and pulls off the bloodied rubber gloves off of his broad hands with a snap.  Castiel lifts his head, regarding him.  “Take care, man.” Castiel is clapped on the shoulder one last time and climbs into the back of the ambulance and shuts the doors.  The ambulance pulls away, leaving Castiel to give his statement to the police and go home.

 

*~*~*~*~*

Fresh Meat Monday is one of Dean’s favorite days.  Fresh Meat Monday is where each team gets an addition, to train someone new for their own teams. Today, Dean is getting a new, permanent partner; his old partner will be graduating from med school in June. Fresh Meat Monday only comes around every once in a long while, and the last two Dean trained went to Dallas and Lewisville, respectively. This one is going to be his, and he vaguely knows who.

When Dean had pulled up to the station in his ’67 Impala, the chief was outside waiting for him. Immediately, he got out with his bag and approached. “Good morning, sir!”

“Winchester, I need to talk with you about the trainee you’ll be getting today.” The chief led Dean inside, chatting with him on the way. He told Dean everything the instructor told him; this man was the top of his class, skilled and efficient, but socially inept.  The patients trusted him, but not inexplicably. “I think he will be a good match for you, Winchester.”

They’re all lined up in their uniforms, standing in front of their ambulances, hands behind their backs. Dean is grinning like a fool, excitement pumping through him. He is easily the best in the area, and has a gift for putting people at ease. It probably comes from so many years of helping with Sammy, his little brother.  The trainees are here, _finally_ , Dean thinks.  They line up, in their own, new uniforms; ones that have seen nothing but practice dummies and clinical patients. Not a single emergency.  One has black hair and smooth cheeks, with a straight nose and a bandaged forehead.  No kidding.  Castiel is a trainee. A socially awkward Paramedic. That is going to be fun.

The instructor stands between them, pacing down the walkway, looking at a clipboard.  “For proper training, I normally pair you up myself, but seeing as Ambulance number 151 is losing a member in June, they will be looking for someone more permanent.  The fire chiefs and I have come to a mutual agreement as to who will be paired with whom.  Ambulance 151, you will train Castiel Novak.” Dean’s grin widens and he steps forward, as is customary.

“I accept the responsibility.”  As Castiel walks toward him with his bag of supplies, the intercom in the fire department goes off.

“ _Medical response required at Windhaven and 121. Please respond._ ” Dean jumped for it and ran back to the ambulance with his team, snatching up the radio in the back.

“This is Winchester with ambulance 151, responding,” Dean climbed into the back and gestured hurriedly for Castiel to follow as he got the orders from the dispatch.  “10-4. En route.”  Castiel shut the doors and took his place. Dean banged where the drivers were buckling in. “Code 3 car accident, windhaven and 121. Two cars. Let’s go!”  The Ambulance speeds off, lights and sirens, along the road. Dean looks at Castiel, green eyes serious.  Castiel meets his eyes with a steady stare. “Okay, Cas. This is the real thing. We got a Code 3 car accident. Two cars.  There’s probably gonna be debris and blood and really scared people.  What is the first thing you do when you get to the scene?”

Castiel responds immediately. “Assess the scene.”

“Awesome. Then what?”

“Check vitals.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nooo.”

“What?” Castiel furrows his eyebrows.  “But when I did Basic and took the classes…”

“They’re wrong.”

Castiel bristles.  “What could possibly be more important than checking for vitals?” He hissed, checking his bag. They are close to the scene. Castiel can see the lights of the police cars. 

“Reassuring the victim _while_ checking for vitals. A scared victim is an unstable victim, Cas. You need them, more than anything, to _trust_ you. Did you trust me when I helped you?” Dean is looking at Castiel with intense green eyes.

Castiel meets his eyes with an equally intense stare. “Of course.”

“Okay. They _have_ to trust you. Then, you get what happened, and allergies. The entire time, you have to be reassuring.  I know you’re bad at that, but you have to work on it, Cas.”  The ambulance stops, and Dean slings his bag on, pulls on gloves, and leaves the ambulance immediately. Castiel follows suit.  As far as accidents go, it could be worse. One car had caught the front fender of another, going between 25 and 35 miles an hour. There is no danger in the area; the police have the area cordoned off.  There are three people; a woman in the oncoming vehicle with an infant, a man pinned in the front of the vehicle that was struck. The airbags went off in her vehicle but not his. The woman has an infant. Infant first. Castiel’s entire deduction took place in less than a second, but reckless Winchester is already rushing toward the car.  The infant is wailing. He opens the rear door with ease and unlatches the car seat, pulling it out of the car.

Castiel heads for the woman. He reaches in, hands nonthreatening. “Hello. I am Castiel.” There is blood coming from lacerations on her face and arms. Castiel presses gloved fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. There is one, and she is breathing. “The door is jammed, but all will be well. We will get you out.”

“My baby…” She murmurs, head lolling to one side.  Castiel removes his penlight and flicks it over her eyes. The pupils do not respond; a concussion. Castiel searches for Dean, and finds him laying the uninjured infant back into the carrier.

“Your baby is well.  He has no injuries. You, too, will be well.”  The woman’s eyes flutter shut and Castiel shakes her shoulder gently. “Ma’am. Ma’am, wake up.”  Cas removes his head and calls for Dean, who rushes over.

“What’ve we got here?” Dean’s face falls and darkens when he sees the woman. “Get a shock blanket and a neck collar,” He shoves Cas toward the ambulance and pulls back to shout. “Jaws of life here! Door is jammed!”  The firemen had already freed the man, who is now being looked over.  They rush over, toting the large cutting implement. Castiel returns with the support and helped Dean put it around the woman’s head.  Gingerly, they throw the shock blanket over the woman’s head to prevent debris from falling on her. With a final reassurance, Dean pulls away so that the firemen can remove the roof and doors. Castiel and another Paramedic (Steve, the one who is leaving) bring the stretcher over, with the standard machines and a backboard. The roof is gone, so Dean and Cas slide the backboard behind the woman gingerly.

“It’s okay,” Dean murmurs to the woman. “You’re okay. Your baby’s okay. Can you tell me his name?” He keeps talking, trying to keep the woman awake.  She replies with lazy, slurred words. Castiel watches Dean as they carefully remove the woman from the vehicle and place her on the stretcher.  Dean is still smiling as they wheel her to the Ambulance.  Dean is smiling at her softly as they guide the stretcher in. He warns her about every bump and brush she would feel.  Castiel shuts the doors and reaches for the machines as Dean reassures her and soothes the infant, who is no older than eight weeks.  Castiel checks and documents her vitals and barely manages to get her name into his computer before she loses consciousness.  They are a scant three minutes from the hospital, but Castiel is anxious.

Dean takes a break from humming _Smoke on the Water_ to the babe and nods to his new trainee. “She’ll be okay, Cas. There’s nothing more we can do for her here.” The ambulance backs into the emergency area of Plano Presbyterian and Dean clips the boy back into his carrier and helps unload the baby and his mother. Doctors receive them immediately. Dean speaks to them hurriedly about the patient while Castiel passes on his computer data to the medical student. The medical student is a blonde girl who casts flirtatious looks at 24-year-old Castiel as he reads off the information.

“I do not have insurance information as of yet, but…” Castiel glances up with his bright blues and furrows his eyebrows. “Are you well?”

The student blushes and nods. “I can get the information, no problem.” Castiel nods absently, watching as Dean and three nurses gingerly transfer the patient and a fourth nurse takes the infant. 

Dean comes back over and claps Castiel on the shoulder. “C’mon, Cas.  We’ve still got twenty-two and a half hours left.”  Castiel smiles politely and nods at the student before following Dean and climbing into the back of the ambulance.   They are on the way back to the fire station, and Castiel is quiet, taking the time to sterilize the gurney.  Dean leans back. “So, Cas. Did you get her number?” Dean, of course, is referring to the petite blonde who spent more time making goo-goo eyes at the trainee than taking down information.

It doesn’t seem to translate. Castiel throws Dean a quizzical look, “I do not understand.”  Castiel finishes disinfecting the gurney. He covers it with a fresh sheet. “Why would I require her phone number?” Okay, so Castiel is missing something. Medical students in this area have a tendency to put out. Good little Christian girl by day, naughty little sex kitten by night, especially when they have a paramedic as sculpted as Dean charming them with smiles _and_ smarts.

Dean laughs heartily. “She was definitely hitting on you, Cas. Are you telling me you didn’t notice?” Castiel shrugs. He really couldn’t care less.  “I was more concerned about the patient than my social calendar, Dean.”  Castiel’s tone is slightly accusing.

Dean throws up his hands. “Whoa, man.  I’m just saying. You can’t get so wound up around this job, Cas. You are wound way too damn tight.”

Castiel shakes his head in response. “And I believe you to be too relaxed. Perhaps we could both afford to take notes.”

As though to make up for the lull of conversation that followed, Dispatch radios again; a head injury at a store at Willow Bend mall.  Dean sits back on his seat and pats the seat next to him.  “C’mon, Cas. Code 1. No sirens this time around.”

“But it’s a head injury…”

“Dispatch is like the voice of God, Cas.  The call wasn’t directly to EMS. The patient is stable and speaking.  Probably just needs a once-over to make sure there’s no concussion.”

Castiel purses his lips in disapproval, but sits back. Dean puts a hand on his knee. “You’ll adjust. We all do.”

*~*~*~*~*

Castiel collapses in his bed at 8:17 AM Tuesday morning. He is clothed in jeans, a navy FD polo and boots, but after 24 hours on the job, there is only so much caring you can do.  It is also very difficult to summon a fuck to give when you fall asleep before you even hit the pillows. At noon, Castiel is _very_ rudely awaken simultaneously by the sun in his eyes, the phone ringing, and his belt digging into his abdomen.  Castiel gropes blindly for his phone and hit answer.  Holding the phone to his ear, he allows himself a moment to clear the gunk from his eyes.

“ _Hello? Cassie, are you there? Cassie?_ ” Oh, it’s Gabriel. Castiel has half a mind to hang up, because it’s Gabe and he is too tired. The other half protests weakly, saying that Gabriel is trying to be a good brother, and manages to win out.

“Gabe?” His gravelly voice is husky from a deep, dreamless sleep. He fumbles with his polo, twisting it back around.

“ _You never call me Gabe. You must be tired_ ,” Gabriel points out with a laugh. “ _Did I wake you_?”

“You know you did, Gabriel.” Castiel sighs, untying his boots and kicking them off.  Gabriel chuckles on his end.

“ _Yes, well. I just wanted to call my baby brother and see how his first day went_.”

“Could you not have called tonight? I work a 24-hour shift.” Castiel wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder, stands, and pulls at his belt. He wants to get undressed, brush his teeth and get back into that bed.

“ _You know, that never occurred to me._ ”

“I do not believe you, Gabriel.”

“ _You’re exhausted and you still don’t use contractions._ ” Gabriel is amazed.

“You’re exhausting me more.”

“ _When is your next shift? Anyone cute enough to catch your eye? Nurses, perhaps?_ ”

Castiel sets down his phone, pulls off his polo, picks the phone back up and sighs. “Gabriel,” He begins, picking up his clothes and depositing them into the hamper. “Why must you ask me so many questions at 12…” Castiel checks the clock, “19? I’m so tired. I’d rather sleep.”

“ _Just answer them_.”

Castiel sighs and rubs his eyes. “I work Thursday-Friday, 7 to 7. One on, two off.  I am not interested in any nurses, aides, doctors or medical students I have seen in the past 24 hours.” Castiel did dodge that second question.  He found that lying often left a bad taste in his mouth, and he really didn’t want to think about a colleague in that way.  A colleague with an as-yet-undetermined sexual preference. “Gabriel,” Castiel spoke with a tired sort of finality. “I’m hanging up now.”

“ _Fine, fine.  Don’t forget to live a little, Cassie._ ”

“Goodbye, Gabriel.” Castiel pulls the phone away and hung up. He also texts Anna _I had a very long shift. Please do not call me until at least six P.M._ before tossing the phone onto the bed.  His bathroom is welcoming, and allows him to scrub the taste from his mouth, wash the gunk from his eyes, and just provide an overall level of comfort.  Before long, Castiel is back in bed with minty-fresh breath and a bottle of water, fast asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> My first Destiel Fanfiction. I will add tags as the story progresses.


End file.
